It Must Be the Heat
by AMRainer
Summary: Hotch hates the heat and his room is running out of water. His only option? Read to discover.


**Hey! This oneshot is somehow inspired on TigerLily888's Some like it Hot (you should read becase it's awesome) but the main source of this piece is a challenge. Yes, a friend of mine came up with 3 random words - Garage, 29 and Freak - and challenged me to write 1.5k words about it. Well, I broke the last rule but I must say that I tried my best to keep it close! After all, Hotchniss deserves over as much words as possible, right?**

 **Also, I wanna say a huge THANK YOU for my awesome beta Betty Drake (she created her beta profile in order to help me and I love her for that eternally). You all should read her fanfics, she's great!**

 **And another enormous thank you for those who reviewed Your Last Goodbye! Sorry for not replying for each one of you, but I'll be doing that soon! And for those who suggested a sequel, I'll keep that in mind *wink***

 **Disclaimer: The characters are intellectual property of CBS, therefore, this is a fan work without financial gain and with the only purpose of entertainment. But I own the kid that answered the phone.**

* * *

Sunlight beamed Emily's dark brown eyes, which focused on the road that they've been toing-and-froing for the last couple of days. The case was eating them up. A prolific serial killer dumping bodies along road 29, different spots every two days and they seemed to be far away from bringing him to justice. They had four victims already, and it was likely that the number of dead bodies was about to grow when Hotch's phone started ringing just before they reached the motel that JJ booked for the team.

"Hotchner." he answered from the passenger seat. "Are you sure?" he asked, the stoic face hardly disguising his hate for all-things-heat - considering the absurdly high temperatures they've been struggling with - and he was not the only one affected by Florida's climate.

Emily pulled the car into the parking lot, thanking all the angels for the enclosed garage they chose for the SUVs. If she had to spend a quarter second more with sun blazing her fair skin, her dearest boss would watch her strip down to birthday suit mercilessly.

"Tell them we're on our way." he sighed and hung up.

"Who was this?" Emily asked, but her question was purely rhetorical. She didn't care who the caller was, unless if that person just said that they could go home, so Emily could drown in her bathtub for at least two days. Okay, maybe for the rest of the year.

"Morgan. We have a new body at Immokalee."

"Are you serious?" she said and seemed beyond frustrated.

Hotch's glare clarified his point, although it shot a thrill down her spine. She shook her head, pondering about a way to ease her current deplorable condition.

"Can we at least have a shower?" her question was bit fretful. _Well, preferentially in the same stall…_ , she thought and a tiny mischievous smile appeared on her face. _Where had this thought come from? This is Hotch, for God's sake. Maybe it's the heat wave turning your brain into a ball of fire. Maybe the ball of fire is a little bit further South. Alright, a lot further south._

"We shall." Hotch replied and the young brunette's mind automatically complemented his sentence with the word: _together_ _._ "Be back in 20. That's fair enough for you?"

"Sure." she nodded. _Just enough time for a quickie. Stop right there! What are you even thinking?_

Hotch leapt out of the car as gracefully as someone who was feeling his suit added 150 degrees to the over 90 degrees he was experiencing from the amazingly hot climate. He even gave up on driving on the way back, which was nearly unbelievable and earned him a very worried – alright, actually it was shocked - look from his brunette subordinate. Though his love for the black shiny Suburban was tremendous, there was nothing in this world that could bother him more than heat.

By the moment his room's door closed behind him, his fingers stripped him bare faster than a Hotch rocket, fumbling with his tie only to realize that even the sticky sweat had almost glued the hem of his hair on the nape of his neck.

"Shit." he hissed between gritted teeth, trying to focus on the cold shower waiting for him.

He didn't even bother to pick up his clothes and leave them easily available; all he wanted was to wash every inch of his body as soon as possible. He reached for the faucet, his skin felt like desert dry and he placed himself right in the perfect spot under the showerhead.

When not a single drop of water touched his hair, all he could do was swear twenty different things and clench his jaw in fury, shooting a death glare at a vacant point in the ceiling. Hotch was about to freak out. He just wanted to reach for his gun and have some serious conversation with the local's holder. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?

Before he could even register, his towel was wrapped around his hips and he strode out of the bathroom for a brief call. He dialed in lighting speed, his extraordinary self-control falling to ashes as a teenage boy greeted him politely on the other side of the line.

"It's from room 11. I guess you're having problems with the register because my room's running out of water."

The kid said the couple of words that added the shiny cherry to the top of this not even a bit appreciable day.

"Sorry Sir, but we're running out of water on your corridor. Maybe if you could try the rooms near the stairs, the-"

"You've got to be kidding." he snapped, growling inwardly and hung the line with flames in his eyes.

He had one single option. _It's just for a shower, just a shower._

* * *

Emily danced with the stars from the very minute the water washed away the remaining sweat. She had never in her life wished more that she hadn't had a job to do or things to worry about. All she truly wanted was a back rub, maybe some steamy activities with the dildo Garcia gave her for Christmas, then to curl up in bed until it was another year. Her hands wandered through her body, soaping the curves while she hummed Shania Twain's old songs, adding some sway to her hips whilst she shimmied away her daily stress.

Her mind drifted to her inappropriate thoughts back to when they arrived at the motel. She allowed the pouring water do its thing as it removed the soap from her white skin. _It was just the heat, just the heat… Well, if it wasn't, that's not your fault at all, is it? Of course not, it's all on Hotch and his body. And the suit. Yeah, definitely it's all on the suit. Besides, it's not like he's gonna show up by your door_ _, wrapped in a towel and willing to let you do him all night long._

The insistent knock on her door played a string of anger as Emily reluctantly stepped out of the stall and covered her body with the comfy white bathrobe. She checked the peephole, barely believing the image her eyes captured. _No, what the-_

"Hotch…" her sight lingered a while on his confident look, despite the fact that he was naked from head to hips and using his clean work clothes to shield himself from her way too much interested eyes. Get a grip, for fuck's sake, this is your boss.

"Prentiss, I'm really sorry for interrupting you," his orbs quickly drank in the sight of her wet breastbone between the rounded lapel, diverting his wandering gaze before she could even register. "but I'm out of water and I was wondering…"

"If I could give you a hand." _what in the actual-_

"I'd… appreciate that, but I understand if -"

"There's no problem, really, I was almost done here." _but maybe if you want to double up in the shower…_ "Come in."

"You sure?" he faltered, his chocolate eyes asking for permission due the conditions on the situation. Sometimes, he hated to be her boss. Otherwise, he'd probably pin her against the closest wall and take her until they both forgot their names. _Whoa, you better stop right there._

"Well, I don't think you want the whole floor to see you almost naked at my door." she snickered; cocking an eyebrow, therefore he could attest his situation.

Her eyes roamed to the flush on his cheeks, feeling her enraged arousal almost begging to let it go as the heat between her thighs now had nothing to do with Florida's summer time. She watched him step in and locked the door. Emily turned on her feet, her eyes filled with lust as his sweaty, muscled back faced her for a split of seconds. That is wrong on so many levels. Still, she could capture a glimpse of his darkened eyes, which did nothing but increase the desire about to knock away her senses of what was considered an appropriate demeanor between co-workers.

She walked towards him, eyes never leaving his hands as he folded his – no longer - perfectly ironed suit. The younger agent tried to avoid the dampness of her core as she felt his masculine body emanating a heat wave far much more exciting than the near a hundred degrees outside. _What are you doing? Back away!_

"Hey..." Hotch became aware of their closeness, too late to recompose his usual stoic facade; therefore, his searing eyes ravaged Emily completely, rarely concealing how desperate he has been for her.

In the back of her mind, she knew he'd never had taken the next steps if she hadn't. However, their lips collapsed before any rational sentence polled her fogged mind. It was hot and sloppy. His lips tasted like Hotch blended with coffee, whilst that supple piece of her tasted the most delightful mix of cherry, cinnamon and Emily. His tongue slid on her lower lip, tugging roughly before she allowed him entrance.

When they broke the kiss, they were both panting in each other's arms. His hands were cupping her rosy cheeks, callused thumbs pressing dominantly in order to keep her blazing eyes only for him. The brunette pulled him closer, soft fingers entwined on the nape of his still soaked neck. Right before their mouth unveiled each other again, he murmured slowly.

"I want you."

* * *

 **Well well, please, if you can, take a minute to tell me whether you like it or not! I'd love to hear from you ;)**


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